Ronan swallowed and swiveled on his heel, jogging into the parking garage without a second look. I groaned, heading back to my car. If someone really wanted Ronan dead, he would be dead before sundown. The man had no sense of self-preservation. It was pure luck that he apparently lived in a secure community or he probably would have had a bullet between the eyes by now.
I caught up with him at the driveway onto the street and tailed him the handful of miles to his place. I followed him through the gate, stopping once I’d rolled over the grate to ensure it closed behind us, then sped to catch up. He unrolled his window and gestured to a bank of empty parking spaces. I pulled into one and climbed out of the car after I parked, again checking my surroundings. The place seemed secure enough, with tall gates and bushes, a handful of security cameras scattered on the light poles.
It could have been worse.
I didn’t bother paying attention to where Ronan parked because I wasn’t the one who wanted him dead. He walked out of the parking garage and I followed him into the building, up to his condo and into his well-appointed living room. There was another man in the kitchen, laboring at something over the stove.
“We have company,” Ronan said, closing the door behind us.
The other man looked over his shoulder and I recognized him from Rapture, recognized him from pictures I’d pulled of Golden. This was Ronan’s boyfriend, Kevin Bryce.
“Ronan, what the shit?” Kevin snapped, backing up against the stove.
“I’m not here to kill anyone,” I said, because I worried it needed saying again.
“Of course you’d say that.”
“If I wanted to kill your boyfriend, he wouldn’t have made it out of the hospital,” I said, a cruel smile curling my lips.
These men didn’t know me. The doctor knew me as a dying man on Golden’s kitchen floor and his boyfriend only knew what he’d been told, whatever questions Golden had answered the night all his friends had shown up at the house.
“Where is Foster?” Ronan asked, toeing out of his sneakers and moving past me into the living room. He collapsed onto his couch with a tired groan, rubbing at his temples with the pads of his fingers.
“You know,” I said, trailing behind him. “Considering you’re worried someone wants you dead, you are too fucking careless.”
“I’m tired.” Ronan closed his eyes.
“He’s right.” Kevin came into the living room, wiping his hands on the front of his jeans before sitting down beside Ronan on the couch.
“Which of us?” Ronan didn’t open his eyes, instead petting Kevin on the thigh.
“Him.” Kevin jerked his head toward me.
“Sage,” I offered.
Kevin gave me a pinched-off look like he didn’t care what my name was.
“Anyway.” I ignored him. “Who wants you dead? Where the fuck is Golden?”
“I don’t know,” Ronan answered. “Someone broke into Foster’s house, tried to shoot him.”
That explained the busted front door, but hearing someone had tried to touch him, to take him from me…
My blood boiled.
“Go on,” I said through clenched teeth.
“He sent us away for the weekend, told us to lay low, but I had to come back for work.”
“Careless,” I muttered.
“I save people’s lives,” Ronan snapped. “I saved yours, though I don’t know why I bothered.”
“And I thanked you for that,” I reminded him.
Ronan made an unamused noise in the back of his throat. “No, you didn’t.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kevin interjected. “We’re back and Ronan is working, and I’m leaving for Colorado tomorrow, and Foster is…”
